


Mary Can You Come Outside?

by RCs Many Posts (Parker4131970)



Category: due South
Genre: Domestic Violence, F/M, Physical Abuse, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 16:10:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14452887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parker4131970/pseuds/RCs%20Many%20Posts
Summary: Ben tries to help a young woman who has just moved in next door escape from an abusive relationship. Warning: Scenes of Violence but tame language.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

 

**They are slaves who fear to speak**

**for the fallen and the weak.**

**~Lowell** _**Stanzas on Freedom** _

Mary looked around the apartment, looking at the pet stains on the floor, the mildew in the corner and the broken plate covering the light switch. She's grown up in such places as these. All of her growing-up years had been spent tramping from one government housing project to another dilapidated, brick building.

"Ah, a coat of paint and it'll look brand new." The building manager shrugged, not really caring if they did a single thing as long as the deposit check didn't bounce.

"We'll take it," Derek grunted, digging out his wallet. His beefy hands were calloused from years of hard labor. Mary leaned on the door handle, thinking how nice it would be if she painted the entire, one bedroom apartment white and put up curtains over the kitchen window. She thoughtlessly ran her fingers through her mahogany colored hair as she pictured the improvements.

"Mr. Jones? Pardon my intrusion, I was just looking for you." A tall, handsome man with a friendly smile peeked inside the open door. The manager strode across the living room and snapped the U.S. Postal money order from between his fingers.

"Constable Benton Fraser, meet your new neighbors, Mary and Derek Thompson." Mr. Jones made introductions, his hazel eyes dull and limp.

"Hello, pleased to meet you." The red clad Canadian stepped farther inside the apartment. Derek gave him a cold stare as he shook hands. From behind him tip toed Diefenbaker, his nails clicking on the hallway's hardwood flooring. "This is my wolf, Diefenbaker, he's tame, I promise." Ben smiled. "He is a shameless beggar for sweets though."

"I bet he's just a big puppy, isn't he." Mary knelt down to scratch the white and caramel wolf's head between the ears.

"Don't get dog hair on your clothes, Mary," Derek barked, his dark eyes as cold as any glacier Ben had ever seen. Reluctantly, she pulled away from Dief.

"I'm in 3J, at the end of the hall. If you need anything, don't hesitate to knock." the Mountie offered with a sincere smile.

"Thanks, but we can take care of ourselves." The gruff way Derek spoke to him ended any further conversation.

"Good day, Mr. Thompson, Mrs. Thompson." The Mountie settled his Stetson down onto his brow before turning to leave. Mary nodded, embarrassed by her husband's behavior.

"Let's go sign the paperwork. This way." Mr. Jones led the couple to his office on the first floor.

**Scene Break**

_**Two weeks later …** _

Ben helped one of the ladies on the third story carry her groceries to her door, his arms full as she dug around for her keys.

"Ms. Caudill, is that your door key hanging around your neck?" the Mountie finally asked after ten minutes. The eighty year old woman looked up at him, her eyes magnified by her owlish glasses.

"What'd you say, sonny, you have to speak up, I'm a little hard of hearing." Her rheumy eyes peered intently up at his face, listening.

"I said, is that your door key hanging around your neck?" Ben shouted, bending forward, toward her ear.

"Oh yes, there it is. I forgot I'd put it there." With a smile, Ms. Caudill dragged the lanyard out of her bright pink blouse, drawing it up from the depths of her ample bosom. A few fumbles later she opened the door and led Ben through her living room.

"Set them down anywhere, sonny. I've got to get off my feet for a few minutes." Ms. Caudill settled herself on a doily covered, gray recliner near the window over looking the street. Ben set three heavily laden paper bags on the small, round table in the kitchen. He peeked into the living room to see the old lady with her head leaned against the head rest, snoring already. Quickly, he found the items that needed refrigerated and put them away. A squeaky floor board gave the usually silent woodsman away as he walked toward the door.

"Oh, Constable Fraser, let me give you something for helping me." Ms. Caudill hefted herself out of the chair, digging in the front of her pink blouse. She pulled a single dollar out and handed it to him.

"That's not necessary, Ms. Caudill." He tried to refuse but she narrowed her milky eyes at him. Finally, Ben took it to keep from hurting her feelings. He tipped his hat and turned to go. It had been a long day at the consulate and an equally long day helping his friend, Detective Ray Vecchio, track down an art smuggler. The Mountie puzzled over the case as he walked back to his own apartment. Before he knew it he heard raised, angry voices coming from his neighbor's apartment. He couldn't tell exactly what they were saying. The explosive, angry sounds made him cringe. Domestic upheaval wasn't something Ben understood. He guessed he never would, being a bachelor. Growing up, his grandparents had rarely raised their voices in anger, neither toward each other nor him.

"I'm leaving, I ain't eatin' that slop." Derek Thompson called his wife something better suited to female dogs than to a young woman. The man didn't meet Ben's eyes as he blew on past him in the hallway. From behind the door Ben heard Mary Thompson sobbing uncontrollably. She didn't meet his gaze either, instead closing the door quietly and turning the dead bolt. For a split second he saw her face before reaching his door. Her mahogany hair looked disheveled and her blue eyes were red and puffy. A sense of long-suffering sadness emanated from her whole face. Ben shook his head, feeling sorry for the young woman. The Mountie felt at a loss as to what to do. It wasn't really any of his business if they argued.

********

_**A few days later …** _

Saturday was Ben's one day off, and so far neither the consulate nor Ray had called looking for him. Diefenbaker stood near the door as the off-duty Mountie walked out of the small bedroom trying to straighten the collar of his red and black, flannel shirt. His hiking boots thumped across the hardwood floor.

"You aren't getting any jelly doughnuts. I've asked Mr. Perkins not to give them to you anymore." The white wolf laid down beside the door, no longer interested in going grocery shopping.

"Dief, don't pout, you know how you get when you eat too many sweets." Ben closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He'd never met a human as stubborn as this one sixty pound wolf.

"Fine, stay if you wish, but I'm still not getting any jelly doughnuts." Ben grabbed his leather jacket and his hat before leaving. He didn't bother to lock the door, Dief was enough of a deterrent to keep the burglars away.

Once outside the apartment building Ben set off in his usual, efficient pace. It didn't take long to walk three blocks to the farmer's market. Quite a few vendors had vegetables out for sale. Things such as hydroponic tomatoes, peas, lettuce, green onions, new potatoes, and imported from Mexico there were cantaloupes and two different varieties of watermelons. Among the edibles there were flowers of all kinds either to decorate the table or to plant in the front yard. Ben didn't really notice the glances from female shoppers, both married and single as he chose a few things and put them in the basket hanging from one arm. He almost didn't see Mary until they reached for the same fist sized tomato.

"Pardon me." Ben withdrew his hand, taking notice of the young woman.

"Constable Fraser, hello." She too pulled back from the juicy fruit.

"Go ahead, please." The Mountie handed it to her with a kind smile.

"Thank you." She reached up to brush a strand of her mahogany hair back over her ear, black and purple marks peeking out from the sleeve of her denim jacket. Mary saw his gaze land on the hand print around her wrist. Each of Derek's fingers were as clear as if it were paint instead of a painful bruise.

"That looks painful." Ben stepped closer, his voice low so as not to draw attention.

"It's nothing, really." Mary pulled her jacket sleeve down, red creeping up her face. Ben looked at his hiking boots a second, debating what to say. His eyes rose to meet her blue ones.

"It's only nothing as long as you let it be nothing, Mrs. Thompson." She looked up at him, his gaze boring into her.

"Derek and I were just playing around. He doesn't know his own strength. He's really just a big teddy bear." It sounded like an excuse even to her but there it was anyway.

"Ah," Ben intoned, looking at his boots again. Even in the far, far,  _very_  far north, he'd worked domestic abuse cases. That bruise wasn't from  _'just playing around'_. Ben considered men who mistreated women the lowest form of animal.

"I have to be going, Constable Fraser." Mary shoved the tomato into a plastic vegetable bag and turned to go. Ben watched her retreating form as she headed toward the check-out counter. He could only shake his head as he watched, wondering why such a lovely, young woman would put up with a husband like that. If Ben didn't understand why men did it, he certainly didn't understand why women put up with it. There were too many laws and sources of help to put up with an abusive spouse. Sometimes the Mountie missed his black and white world back in the Yukon.

Ben wrapped up his shopping and went back to the apartment. Diefenbaker was still sitting beside the door, pouting. Seeing his furry friend took some of the nagging anger out of the Mountie.

"Come on, I'll take you for a walk." Ben put his groceries away and pulled out the doggie treats he kept hidden in the back of the cabinet. Diefenbaker took his sweet time getting up, letting Ben know he still wanted a jelly doughnut.

**Scene Break**


	2. Chapter 2

  _ **One week later …**_

Ben walked into the bull pen, his Stetson in his hand and Diefenbaker in tow. Ray Vecchio sat at his desk near the back, using the Biblical method of typing (Seek and Ye Shall Find) to write a report. Ben didn't see his younger sister, Francesca, but he knew she'd zero in on him before too long.

"Hello, Ray." Without looking up the detective pulled his morning bear claw away from Dief.

"Morning, Fraser, how's it going?" Ray sought a few more words before giving up. He wished he could just hand his reports and files in handwritten. "I heard a call come in last night for your address, what went on?"

The Mountie tossed his hat onto the hat rack effortlessly.

"I'm not sure, I was on duty at the consulate until late, it must have dissipated before I arrived at my apartment." Fraser shrugged. There hadn't been any ruckus that he'd heard. The building had been quiet on his floor, as usual.

"I'll find out." Ray took his coffee and bear claw and walked over to the sergeant on duty. Fraser watched as the sergeant handed him a file. "Ah, here we go, domestic disturbance. Mary Thompson called in against her husband, Derek Thompson. He's now in the Cook County drunk tank." Ray laid the file on the desk between them.

"I hadn't heard anything about it. The couple just moved in a few weeks ago. He seemed belligerent." Fraser remembered the bruises around Mary's wrist. He was sure now there were others she kept hidden.

"Looks like he just finished ten years of a fifteen year sentence in the big house. He'd been married two months before he was arrested for stealing a trailer loaded with equipment from the construction company where he worked. His wife stayed with him while he was in prison. The guy's got a string of charges going back to before he was eighteen." Ray started naming over some of them, every one a violent offense. When he looked up he saw the somber expression on his friend's face and the way his jaw worked slightly as he stared into space. You had to know Benton Fraser well before you saw the signs of anger or annoyance.

"Good morning, Benton." Frannie's sugary voice interrupted the Mountie's thoughts.

"Hello, Francesca." He dodged her long fingernails as she smoothed a curling strand of his hair closer behind his ear.

"You need a hair cut, Benton," Frannie cooed. "I could take care of that for you," she offered.

"Oh, no thank you, Francesca. I have an appointment for tomorrow morning." If he didn't, Ray knew he would before the day was out. The detective hid a devilish grin behind his coffee cup. It was kinda fun to see the usually unflappable Mountie squirm.

After Frannie left Ben took a look at Derek Thompson's record. Part of him wanted to look at Mary Thompson's record.

"Hey, I got to take this back." Ray pulled the file away from Ben. When he saw the slight frown on the mountie's face it gave him pause. "What are you thinkin' about, Benny?" Ray stopped, his loafers scuffing on the tile floor.

"Nothing." Ben's face brightened, all traces of concern gone.

"She's got to you, hasn't she?" Ray guessed. If he knew anything about Fraser it was that he was a big softie when it came to damsels in distress.

"Who?" Fraser asked, confused.

"This Thompson chick. She's pretty isn't she?" Ray grinned like a possum, knowing he'd hit the nail on the head.

"Mrs. Thompson is, well, she's attractive, I suppose." The more he down played it the more Ray knew for certain he was right. Ben bit on the inside of his lip as he met his friend's gaze.

"Let's see what she looks like." Ray sat down at his computer and pulled up D.M.V. records for Mary Thompson. Her driver's license picture showed a lovely, young woman with long, mahogany hair, blue-green eyes and cute, girl-next-door features.

"It says here she's twenty-nine. Doesn't look it," Ray commented. "Five foot seven inches and one hundred, thirty pounds."

"Ray, I'm surprised at you. That's invasion of privacy." Ben stood up and retrieved his hat.

"Oh pooh, you can take one look at her and figure that much out," Ray called after his friend as he strolled out of the bull pen.

Fraser thought of a story his grandmother had told him about Abraham Lincoln. Once, while he was a Senator from Illinois, someone tried to bribe him. Lincoln threw the man down the stairs for his trouble. When asked why he'd done it, wasn't the bribe high enough, Lincoln replied, "No, it was to close to my price." Fraser knew how Lincoln felt.

"Fraser, where you going? I was just about to see if you wanted lunch later?" Ray hurried to catch up to the walking Mountie.

"Thank you kindly, Ray, but I have duty at the consulate. Maybe another time." Ben pulled his hat down securely as he hit the sidewalk outside the precinct.

********

_**That evening …** _

Mary stood out on the sidewalk in front of the apartment building. Despite the seventy degree weather she wore her denim jacket over her ankle length, print dress. Passing cars cast off a gentle breeze as she paced the length of the building. The young woman's blue eyes scanned the top floor windows. Ms. Caudill had offered her a cup of coffee as she walked up the front stoop but Mary had turned it down. Busy searching the windows, Mary didn't see Ben walking up the sidewalk toward her. Diefenbaker trotted happily beside the Mountie, his tongue lolling out.

"Mrs. Thompson, good evening." Fraser called out with a smile. She put down the hand shielding her eyes and frowned at him.

"Hello, Constable Fraser," she greeted him almost sourly.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Ben stopped and looked straight up, trying to figure out what she was looking for.

"Nah, Derek's got me locked out of the apartment." Mary put one hand over her mouth before she could say anything more.

"Perhaps Mr. Jones has a spare set of keys." Ben offered politely.

"That wouldn't help, Derek has the chain lock on. He locked me out then went down the fire escape." Mary spread her hands helplessly. Dief looked up at the top floor, wondering what the humans were studying so intensely. When he didn't immediately hear or see anything he found something more interesting to occupy his time.

"Let me see if I can pull down the ladder for you, then you can climb back in the window," Ben offered, starting off toward the east side of the building. Mary trailed after him, hoping she could get back in the apartment before Derek got home. If she didn't have supper on the table she knew he'd be pissed. She was beginning to prefer the nights he didn't come home at all.

"Call me Mary, please. Mrs. Thompson is my mother-in-law." She hated the sound of that name.

"Ah, I see. The sliding ladder is broken. Your husband must have jumped down onto a vehicle." Ben searched the immediate area for something to give him a boost. Nothing tall enough presented itself. "If I may, why did your husband go to such lengths to lock you out of the apartment you share?"

"Derek likes to play practical jokes, that's all," Mary explained. Ben studied her profile as she stood staring up at her apartment windows. She'd accidentally wiped make-up away from her left cheek bone and on up toward her temple. A faint, purple tinged her skin. Ben felt a burning knot forming in the pit of his stomach.

"Is this his idea of a practical joke?" The Mountie indicated the bruise. As he looked at her more closely he saw that she was wearing heavy make-up around her eye as well. Mary turned on him, her eyes narrowed.

"I walked into a door, alright. I stumbled into it first thing one morning. Derek didn't leave the door open all the way." She pulled down her jacket sleeves as she met his gaze.

"No amount of concealer can hide the print of a man's fist, Mrs. Thompson." Ben's blue eyes were as hard as diamonds. Mary didn't fool him and she saw it clearly in those piercing orbs.

"It's none of your business, Constable Fraser," Mary spoke curtly, barely controlling her fear.

"Will it become my business when he begins on your children, Mary?" Ben watched as she laid one hand on her stomach, the color draining from her face. Before she could break down crying, Mary marched around the corner and disappeared. Ben was left on the sidewalk, cursing himself for pushing too hard. Adjusting his hat, the Mountie called Dief and took off walking.

*********

Mary marched up to her apartment door and unlocked the deadbolt. Angry and afraid, she began hammering away at the door with her shoulder. It took several attempts but finally the cheap, metal screws holding the chain lock to the frame broke. Mary stumbled into the living room, her arms windmilling. It took her a step or two to catch her balance. She could still hear the constable's words ringing in her ears.  _Will it become my business when he begins on your children?_ Mary wondered if Derek had the capacity to strike a child in anger the way he did to her. Tears began welling up in her blue eyes as she sat on the couch, a broken spring assaulting her posterior.

After having a good cry, Mary walked into the bathroom to freshen up. The naked light bulb over the medicine cabinet's mirror showed plainly exactly where Derek's fist had struck her. Slowly, she shed her denim jacket. There were hand prints all the way up her arms. Next Mary unbuttoned her dress down to her knees. Purple splotches covered her torso and extended down to her legs. The sight of it nearly made her sick. Mary dressed, washed her face then went turned to leave the bathroom. She saw the pregnancy tests she'd taken laying in the trash can. Looking around, though without any reason to, she then pulled the bag out of the can and walked it down to the trash bin in the basement. Mary didn't want Derek to know she thought she was pregnant. He'd already said he didn't want children, not yet. They'd gotten married a little over ten years ago but Mary felt like a new bride. Derek had only been back in her life the last few months.

"I won't let him do anything to this baby," Mary vowed silently. 

**Scene Break**


	3. Chapter 3

  _ **Later that evening …**_

Ben walked along the sidewalk, not really paying attention to where he was going. Along the way he'd tipped his hat to a few people he'd come to know. He walked past a bridal shop and caught his reflection in the glass. A starkly white dress stood on display in the window, trimmed in glass beads and lace. It reminded Ben of a wedding he'd been invited to years before, just after graduation. The young groom had smiled and said, "love, honor and cherish." Ben wondered how someone could vow before God and their family to cherish someone and then abuse them. As much as he thought about it, it never made sense.

Dief groaned, wondering why his human had stopped after walking so steadily for so long. Looking up, he saw the sad expression on his friend's face. He'd seen it often enough, when no one else was around. The wolf decided to do something distracting, so he walked up to a hot dog vendor's cart and started begging for a bite. Ben heard the vendor trying to shoo the white beggar away.

"I'm sorry, Sir, I've never quite broken him from that," Ben apologized to the middle aged man manning the rolling fast food. To show his sincerity, and settle his growling stomach, the Mountie purchased a fully loaded foot long and a plain foot long. Ben turned and headed back to his apartment, Diefenbaker in tow.

*********

Sirens and honking horns filtered up from the street beyond the apartment window. Life, for better or worse, was going on only a few yards below. Ben drew the black-out curtain together tightly. It didn't stop the noise but at least the apartment was dark enough to go to sleep. The Canadian missed the nights when he could lay beneath the stars and wonder what there was in the constellations he named in his head. Ben lay on his bed roll wearing only the bottom half of his red long underwear. He could see his white feet in the dim light coming from the uncovered, living room window. Diefenbaker had long since began snoring loudly. It wasn't the most pleasant sound but it helped drown out the sound of the sirens coming from the street. Naming over the constellations he would have seen back home, Ben turned over and tried to get some sleep.

Just about the time he drifted off Ben heard the sound of a glass breaking against the adjoining wall. Loud cursing followed and somewhere a baby began crying. The off-duty Mountie heard two voices shouting at each other.

"Why, Mary, why? It's a war you'll never win," Ben said softly to himself, shaking his head. From the little he'd interacted with her, Mary seemed intelligent. She was well dressed considering her income level. For the life of him, Ben couldn't see why such a promising woman would put up with a low life thug like Derek Thompson.

Restless, Ben sat up and lit his Coleman lantern. His eyes cast about for something distracting. A stray shaft of light hit the body of his guitar in the corner of the room. It couldn't be any louder than the fight next door. Ben sat on his bed and began strumming the strings, adjusting them until they were in tune again. He strummed until a song began forming beneath his dexterous fingers. Softly, he began singing an old song his father favored. The Hank Williams Sr. song's high, lonesome sound appealed to the Mountie's mood at the moment. Ben could only imagine how Mary's heart hurt as her husband berated her, called her names that should never be directed at someone he loved and robbed her of the support and love she deserved. His fingers played the easy song without much help from his brain. The words flowed smoothly from his lips as he played. The simple, southern, American poetry was haunted with pain, sadness, and longing; things the Mountie could sympathize with. Everyone wants to love and be loved, to be accepted for who they are and supported when circumstances leave them flailing in a dark chasm.

Ben stopped playing when he heard the front door slam next door. Looking at his watch, he realized he'd been playing for nearly three hours. He'd played and sang, time escaping him. Dief snored regardless of the racket. Ben wished he had that luxury. With a sigh, he set the guitar in the corner near his bed and laid back down. He fell asleep to dream about train whistles.

*********

  
Ray walked into the interrogation room with an attitude, as usual. He never played the good cop. Fraser was cast in that part. The detective's eyes blazed as he began hammering the suspect with questions and then knocking down the man's answers. Fraser thought Ray would pop a blood vessel when the suspect stuck his face in Ray's and demanded a lawyer. Fraser and Ray stepped out of the interrogation room, the detective fuming as he marched back to the bull pen.

"Well, that's the end of that case." Vecchio slammed his fist against his desk.

"Ray, there is ample evidence to convict the suspect," Ben assured his friend.

"Vecchio, take a walk, go to lunch or something." Lieutenant Welsh's voice boomed out across the bull pen. Ray turned to his boss, a nasty retort on his lips. Fraser cleared his throat, a warning.

"Yes, Sir, Lieutenant Welsh," Ray almost barked. Fraser and the lieutenant exchanged nods before Ben turned to follow Ray. Without a word, the Mountie climbed into the emerald green Buick and closed the door behind Diefenbaker.

"What can I get for you fellas today?" A smiling, thirty-something waitress asked as she laid down flatware and straws on the table for the two officers. Fraser looked up at the menu board displayed behind the counter.

"I'll take a glass of water and a cheeseburger, well done, no onions, thank you kindly." Ben met the woman's gaze and gave her a polite smile. Ray looked around the tall, brunette waitress at the menu board before issuing his order.

"Cheeseburger, fully dressed, chili cheese fries, and coffee." She didn't get a smile, polite or otherwise, out of Ray.

"Ray, I know you're still upset about the interrogation but there's no need to take it out on others," Ben gently reprimanded his friend for his surly attitude.

"It just gets me that's all. We bust out humps eye balling this slime bucket and he'll get a slap on the wrist," the detective grumbled. It was a common complaint among law enforcers.

"That reminds me, I need your advice about something." Ben leaned forward on the table. He needed someone to use as a sounding board and telling Ray about Mary would distract him.

"Shoot." Ray leaned back in his bench seat, his arms crossed.

"Well, you know the domestic disturbance you told me about yesterday."

Ray nodded, remembering the way Ben had walked away. The Mountie proceeded to detail his meetings with Mary Thompson and the bruises he'd seen on her face and arms.

"Benny, unless you can convince this chick to press charges against her husband, you don't have a leg to stand on. She's got to get the ball rolling." Ray shrugged helplessly.

"I thought as much, but I thought maybe you had a fresh perspective." Ben sighed, leaning back, his hands folded in his lap.

"Benny, did I ever tell you Francesca was married before?" Ray's eyes took a mean, hard look.

"No, I wasn't aware of that."

"Yeah, it lasted about six months or so, right out of high school. Frannie'd met the guy, Scott Caprio, at her summer job after her eleventh grade year. None of the family knew about them until she came in one day in April wearing a dinky, engagement ring on her left hand. We tried to talk her out of it, but you know how she is. It's like trying to talk to a wall." Ray waved his hands. Ben nodded, knowing exactly how the hot blooded Italian descendant was.

"They had a small, church wedding. Ma cried, the whole nine yards. Anyway, a few months after they married Frannie turns up with a black eye, said she'd walked into a door. She began wearing long sleeves, long skirts, avoiding the family, that sort of thing. Ma sent me over to their apartment one night after work with a casserole. I heard Frannie screaming her head off. So I pull out my gun and broke the door down. Scott had her by the throat on the kitchen floor. The apartment was a disaster. He saw my gun and let her go. Frannie spent the next three days in the hospital. My brother-in-law and I caught Scott out where God couldn't hear him scream and taught him a lesson. We haven't heard from him since. The whole thing was annulled." Ray leaned back after telling the story. Ben could easily imagine Ray doing such a thing for Francesca. They may have fought like cats and dogs but they also stuck up for each other. The Mountie supposed he would have done something similar if he'd had a sister, but didn't say so to Ray.

"Neither of you have ever mentioned it." Ben bit on his lower lip, thinking.

"Ah, it's one of those family things that we pretend never happened." Ray shrugged. Families had their quirks, his was no different.

"It must have been painful for Francesca." The Mountie shook his head.

"Yep, she went to a therapist for a while. I've still got her number if you want it, maybe pass it on to this Mary Thompson." Ray pulled out his wallet and began digging through the business cards he kept handy. There were two dozen cards with names and phone numbers written on them. The detective kept them, using them as sources occasionally. Near the bottom of the stack he came across what he wanted.

"Here it is, Windy City Women's Clinic, Casey Anderson." Ray handed the slip of paper to Ben. The small, white card stock's upper left corner had a modest, outline drawing of three people holding hands.

"Thank you, Ray. I'll think about it." Ben tucked the card into his jacket pocket for later. The waitress returned with their drink orders then moments later with their meals.

"No problem, Fraser. You know, when we eat in a restaurant we always get a lot better service than I do without you," the detective commented as the waitress winked at the Mountie.

"Well, Ray, you're not a very good tipper," the Mountie informed his friend, which began an entirely different type of conversation.

*********

**Author's Note:**  "Take These Chains From My Heart", "I Heard that Lonesome Whistle Blow"

Hank Williams Sr.


	4. Chapter 4

 "Thank you, Mary. That was a good cup of tea and these are delicious," Ms. Caudill thanked the young woman as she settled back in her recliner, still nibbling on a cookie.

"You're welcome, glad you enjoyed it." Mary set the last of the saucers in the drainer after washing up. She'd met Ms. Caudill on the stairway. The old woman seemed confused and weak. The first question out of Mary's mouth had been, "Have you eaten today?" To which the old woman shook her head. Taking one arm, Mary had helped Ms. Caudill to her apartment and fetched out the homemade cookies in her purse for the old lady. Two cups of sweetened tea and a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich later, Ms. Caudill had come back to her usual self.

"You don't have to bother with the tea things. I'll wash them with my supper dishes later." Ms. Caudill patted another recliner beside her for the young woman to sit down in.

"It's no trouble, really. I'm already done." Mary rinsed the sink out and dried her hands. Once she'd sat down, Ms. Caudill smiled slyly and fixed a blurry gaze at her younger guest.

"So, I saw you talking to the Mountie fella yesterday." Ms. Caudill began. Mary sighed, had everyone seen her talking to the Mountie?

"Yes, he was helping me. Derek locked me out of the apartment," the young woman answered.

"That Mountie is a real gentleman, and that dog of his is a darling." Gertrude Caudill nibbled her cookie as she studied the young woman's reaction closely.

"Yes, he is. He lives next to me and Derek." Mary stressed her husband's name, hoping to staunch the old woman's match making efforts.

"If I were thirty years younger, I'd be all over him like white on rice." The old lady let out a witchy cackle, her pale face wrinkling into puckers. "Of course I'd still be fifteen years too old for him." She sighed, finishing off another cookie from the tin Mary had handed her.

"I see from the pictures on your wall that you've always been a lovely woman," Mary commented, turning to look at a large, gilt framed, wedding picture.

"Ah, I was a sight to behold in my day. I had short hair with finger waves and wore shining flapper dresses with long strings of beads. Bert, my husband, and I used to dance the Charleston until the wee hours of the morning. He'd sing along to the slow songs. He used to love to tickle me." A sadness edged into the old lady's voice.

"You must miss him very much," Mary said near a whisper.

"I miss him very much," Ms. Caudill echoed, not hearing what Mary had just said. The chiming of a clock somewhere in the house told Mary that it was five o'clock, time to be going.

"I'll see you later, Ms. Caudill. I have to go," Mary almost shouted to be heard.

"Don't be a stranger, Mary. Have tea with me again some time." the old lady offered, hoping to have company more often.

"Yes, Ms. Caudill." Mary shut the door quietly, leaving the old lady alone with her memories.

_**Down The Hall ...** _

With a smile, Mary unlocked her apartment door. She frowned when the key locked it instead. She distinctly remembered locking it before leaving for the library. Derek sat on the couch, a beer in one hand and the television remote in the other. It wasn't a good sign for the night ahead.

"Hello, honey, did you get off work early today?" Mary hung her purse on the nail behind the door as usual. She tried to gauge exactly how drunk Derek was before saying much. If he was drunk enough he'd eat and go to sleep.

"What are you sayin', you don't think I worked today, do you?" He set the beer can on the wobbly coffee table she'd found in a dumpster, washed off and brought home a few days before.

"I know you went to work, Derek, I just thought the crew might have gotten finished early." Nervous, she went to the kitchen and pulled out a small pack of hamburger for dinner.

"What are you fixin' to eat? I'm hungry." the dull eyed man demanded, dragging a dirty hand over his face as he stood up with a sway.

"Your favorite, fried hamburger with pork n beans and mild barbecue sauce with mashed potatoes and green beans," Mary answered, trying to sound cheerful.

"I don't want that crap." Derek went on to tell her exactly what he though of her cooking using language that would have made a sailor proud. Mary tried not to break down crying. She was a good cook and housekeeper. Their apartment wasn't something out of  _Home and Garden Magazine,_ but it was clean and comfortable. Mary had spent days washing the walls, ceilings and floors as well as tugging and prying at the windows until she removed enough paint to get them open. She'd hand sewn curtains using material from the Goodwill store.

"When I got out of prison I wanted real food, not cheap crap like they fed us in the can." Derek threw the loose hamburger at the kitchen wall. Blood and meat slid down the wall and hit the tile floor. "Now clean that up before I slap the snot out of you -- again." Mary ducked out of reach of his big back-hand. Derek hit the kitchen cabinet, nearly breaking the seasoned wood and breaking the skin on some of his knuckles. He let out a loud, foul oath. Anger seething, Derek grabbed Mary by the hair and dragged her up from cleaning the wall. She barely threw her arms up to protect her face as he slammed her into the kitchen wall. Still, the blow broke her nose. Mary thought to herself, He's going to kill me tonight. Like a rag doll, he let her sink to the kitchen floor in a dazed mess.

"That'll teach you to fix me a decent meal from now on, you stupid cow." Derek kicked her a few times for good measure. Mary stayed as still as she could, hoping he would leave. Derek took another beer from the fridge and left the apartment, not bothering to close the door. Mary waited until she heard his heavy boots on the stairs before she tried to move.

_**Meanwhile, down on the steps …** _

Fraser met Derek Thompson as he walked up the cement steps outside the apartment building. The rough construction worker took no notice of the hard to miss Mountie as he blew past him, crushing a beer can in one hand. The greeting on Fraser's lips died when he saw the zombie-like way the man shuffled down the street and disappeared into traffic. Diefenbaker turned back to look for his human, wishing he would come on so he could sink his fangs into some kibble. He hadn't been able to beg any treats all day and he was hungry. Shrugging, Fraser resumed walking up the stairs toward his apartment. The hallway was quiet as he got to the top. When he saw the new neighbors' door standing open, Ben went into Mountie mode, tip toeing to the door. He stood with his back to the wall as he pushed the door open further. When he didn't see or hear anything he stepped carefully inside. Per protocol, Ben identified himself as he heavy, male steps on the hardwood, Mary couldn't stifle a moan.

"Mary?" Ben hurried to her as she lay on her side in the kitchen floor. He checked her wrist for a pulse and moved her long hair away from her face. Through one eye she saw his concerned face. Ben knew what a beating like this felt like. He'd had four men beat him until he was senseless.

"Stay calm, Mary, it's only me. I'll be right back." She watched him stand up and heard him as he pounded on Mr. Mustaffi's door.

"Call an ambulance, please, Mr. Mustaffi." The Mountie's voice sounded tight and harsh as he spoke.

"Sure, no problem, Constable Fraser, right away." The older man's slightly British sounding accent sounded musical as Mary laid on the cool tile listening, unable to move. Ben came back to her and knelt down.

"Can you tell me what happened, Mary?" She struggled to speak, her eyes losing focus as she neared unconsciousness.

"Stay with me, Mary. Did your husband do this or was it someone else?" Ben grabbed a dish towel from the counter and wet it with cold water. He bathed her face gently, trying to keep her conscious.

"Derek," she croaked somehow, tears welling in her quickly swelling eyes. Mary didn't see the way the Mountie's jaw began to work. He kept her talking until the emergency workers arrived with a gurney. Police showed up on their heels. Fraser was passably acquainted with the two beat cops. He threw the dish towel into the empty sink as the EMT's rolled Mary away.

"Hey, Fraser, what's going on?" the senior of the two officers asked, his notebook in one hand.

"The young woman's name is Mary Thompson. I saw her door open as I was walking to my apartment. I found her lying here on the floor." Fraser pointed to the blood in the kitchen floor.

"This is the one we responded to the other day," the junior officer spoke, leaning his uniform cap back on his head. His partner gave him a sharp look then returned to Fraser.

"Did the young lady say anything before the EMT's got here?" the senior officer asked, his tone dry.

"I asked her if her husband was responsible or someone else, she said his name, Derek." Fraser responded, scratching his eyebrow with one thumbnail. "I have reason to believe this is a regular occurrence, and that Mrs. Thompson may be with child." Both officers stared at him.

"Josh, go see if you can catch the ambulance and  tell them." The senior officer sent his partner.

"How do you know this, Fraser?" the senior officer, whose name tag read Peterson, stared at him expectantly. It took Fraser several minutes to fill the officer in on previous events. Peterson stood there and listened with a grim face.

"I'll leave the part about you and Detective Vecchio looking up private information out of the report. If they don't ask I'm not going to volunteer information." Peterson's blue eyes took on a mischievous gleam. Fraser took the hint and gave the officer an understanding nod.

"Fraser, what's going on?" Ray's voice cut into the conversation.

"I found Mary Thompson lying in her kitchen floor where her husband had left her," Ben answered, putting his Stetson on to have something to do with his hands.

"S.O.B. just about killed her," Peterson added. He'd seen too many women put up with violent husbands, returning to them after each brush with death. It didn't make sense to him either.

"Am I free to go, Officer Peterson?" Ben asked, changing the subject quickly.

"Yes, I know where to find you if there are any more questions." Peterson waved him off.

"Ray, would you drive me to the hospital?" When the detective nodded, the Mountie thanked him kindly, as usual.

**Scene Break**


	5. Chapter 5

Mary saw the lights of the ambulance swirling like blueberry and strawberry drizzles. She tried to protest when they slipped the oxygen mask over her nose and mouth but the EMT pushed her hand away with two fingers. They started an IV and took off with the siren blaring. She tried to answer the EMT's questions but let herself fade into the darkness that had been endeavoring to claim her. Fear and confusion ran like wildfire through her until unconsciousness took Mary. She feared Derek would find her any minute and at the same time wondered where she was going.

_**The next day …** _

Ben stood looking out the window, his hands clasped behind his back. Vicki hesitated before approaching the solitary, red figure. She couldn't believe something so delicious had come into her wing. She adjusted her flowered scrubs and smoothed her short, dark hair. When the Mountie suddenly turned it startled the pretty, young Certified Nurses Assistant (C.N.A.). He'd seen her reflection in the window glass.

"Is there something I can help you with, Miss?" The Canadian officer fixed her with an inquiring gaze, his chin lowered so that she could see his sky blue eyes.

"Huh?" the single, dull syllable fell from the C.N.A.'s lips as she stood memorizing the RCMP officer's face. Ben repeated the question.

"Oh, yes, Ms. Thompson asked if you were here," Vicki said with a wistful sigh.

"Thank you kindly, Miss." Then he smiled and the young assistant thought the heavens had opened up just for her. Ben stepped away and strode off toward Mary Thompson's hospital room.

*********

Mary lay in the hospital bed hooked to machines that made her wonder if her body were doing anything at all. She felt like she'd been run over by a train, a fully loaded one. She tried to sit up when she saw Fraser walk into her double room.

"Hello, Mary." Ben came around the foot of the bed and stood at the window. Looking at her, Mary didn't look like the lovely, young woman he'd seen only hours before. Both of her eyes were swollen nearly together, her right wrist in a cast, and the other one bandaged. A triangular bandage covered her broken nose. There were scrapes and cuts all over her face.

"They tell me I have you to thank for finding me last night." Mary saw the pained way he met her gaze. "Do I really look that bad, the nurses won't let me have a mirror." She watched him shake his head.

"I'm just glad I was there in time, Mary." Ben looked her in the eye.

"Oh dear, I do look that bad. Get me a mirror, please." She struggled to sit up right but had to have the motorized bed do it for her. Ben ducked his head, dreading the reaction when she saw her battered reflection. He found a hand mirror in the bathroom and handed it to Mary. She blinked several times, looking herself over carefully. She then laughed, followed by tears. Ben took the mirror from her weak hand and laid it face down on the window sill.

"It will heal, Mary, give it time," he spoke gently.

"Heal? Derek meant to smash my skull last night. Instead he left me looking like a hideous monster. This would make small children cry in fright, Constable Fraser." She raised up, her breath coming in heavy gasps. The machinery began beeping and sounding off.

"Take it easy, Miss. Upsetting yourself won't help." A middle aged nurse walked smartly up to the patient and began shooing Ben out of the room. "I'm afraid you'll have to leave, Sir." The nurse used both hands to push him toward the door. The look in her eyes brooked nothing but obedience.

"Yes, Ma'am. Will you give her this number where I can be reached?" Ben handed her one of the Canadian Consulate's business cards. His extension number and name were written on the back, as well as Ray's information. "Thank you kindly." With a nod he left Mary to the bossy nurse, knowing she rested in capable hands.

*********

_**After Constable Fraser's Shift at the consulate …** _

Windy City Women's Clinic resided in a single story, brick building built in the early sixties. It's attempt at a futuristic design looked absurd some thirty-five years later. Still, it served the clinic well. Ben pushed the glass, double door open timidly. The sitting room was empty of people. With a deep breath, the Mountie reminded himself of his reason for coming. Stepping up to the window, he pulled the card Ray had given him from his hat band. A tired, African-American woman greeted him, her voice husky.

"Yes, I'm here to see Casey Anderson." Ben waited for a moment as the woman dialed the phone on her desk. Looking around he saw several, clever posters; ones against smoking, against drugs of any form, warning against alcohol, drunk driving, promoting safe sex, explaining sexually transmitted diseases, as well as others in Spanish he didn't have time to translate.

"Constable Fraser, hello," a very tall woman with a broad frame and little fat greeted him, her voice strong but feminine. Her gray-blue eyes smiled from behind wire frame glasses as she surveyed the off-duty Mountie in his blue jeans and red, button down shirt and leather jacket.

"Ms. Anderson, hello. Thank you for agreeing to meet me at this late hour." Ben smiled, shaking her hand, which was every bit as large as his but softer and less squared.

"I have to be honest, I was intrigued when a Mountie called me requesting a meeting. The phone number came back legit, so here I am," Casey laughed, trying to break the ice.

"Ah, yes, I see where you might be somewhat hesitant." Ben's fingers traced his hat band, his index finger toying with the brass buckle on the side.

"So, how can I help you, Constable Fraser?" Casey motioned for him to take one of the empty, plastic seats. She lowered her supermodel length frame onto one of the sturdy, but ugly seats. Ben made himself comfortable on a metal folding chair beside her.

"A friend of mine recommended you, Ray Vecchio." Ben talked as Casey tried to place the name. "You assisted his sister a few years ago." A light went on in her mind.

"Vecchio, yes, I know who you mean. I'm not at liberty to discuss her case, Constable."

He raised one hand.

"No, no, I'm here seeking advice about someone entirely different. Francesca Vecchio is doing well." Ben assured her. _She's chasing me, driving me crazy._ he thought to himself.

Casey sat back as Ben began telling her about Mary. A deep frown pulled at her brows, but she kept silent. The therapist sat absolutely still for a moment after Ben finished speaking, her mind still processing.

"Do you have any recommendations for me, Ms. Anderson?" the Mountie asked to prompt her.

"Call me Casey. Well, her fear is normal, more like typical, Staying with an abusive husband is no where near normal." Casey raised one eyebrow. It didn't make sense to her either. "What I recommend is to have her come into the clinic. She should file assault charges, and find a safe house."

Ben began shaking his head. He knew it would be only a matter of days before Derek Thompson tried to see Mary in the hospital. Ben wasn't sure if the young woman would take him back again or not.

"Would you consider going to the hospital to see her?" The Mountie's eyes pleaded silently with the therapist. Casey sighed, knowing that she could protest all she wanted but when it was said and done she'd find herself in that hospital room with Mary Thompson.

"I'll go, Constable Fraser. What time tomorrow?" Casey pulled a pen out of her slacks' pocket and waited for his response.

"I'll call tomorrow morning to arrange a meeting. Thank you kindly, Ms. Anderson." Ben got to his feet, ready to leave. Casey scrambled to stand.

"It's Casey, but it you insist, then it's  _Miss_  Anderson." She gave him a wary smile.

*********

Hospital breakfasts are never what a patient wants to eat first thing off the bat. Most patients are still trying to get over a bad night's sleep when the SOS* (Slime on a Shingle) arrives. Mary was no different. She sat picking at her tray when Fraser arrived, a to-go box of food in one hand and a plain coffee in the other.

"Good morning, Mary," the Canadian greeted her entirely too cheerfully for that early in the morning. She eyed him suspiciously before saying hello. The Mountie laid the box beside her tray then set the coffee down without spilling a drop.

"I thought you might need a good meal." Ben pulled packets of sugar and creamer out of his jacket pocket and dumped them on the tray cart.

"Thank you, Constable Fraser. The Salisbury steak last night tasted like cardboard." Mary forgot and wrinkled her nose. A groan escaped her throat as her nose throbbed.

"Yes, I have, on rare occasion, tasted hospital food."

Mary looked at him skeptically.

"You don't look like you've ever been sick a day in your life, Constable Fraser." She sipped the still hot coffee after dumping two sugars and a generous amount of creamer in the dark liquid.

"Injuries, in the line of duty." Fraser answered thinking of the way his leg ached when the weather changed for the colder.

Mary's eyes took on a new glint of respect for the Canadian. He'd put his body on the line for others.

"How does your wife feel about such dangerous work?" Mary went fishing.

"I'm unmarried." Ben began to squirm despite having been asked the same question hundreds of times.

"That's sad, Constable Fraser. A good man like you should be married." The young woman turned the gold ring on her left hand absently. "Not all marriages are like mine." She smiled sadly. Neither of them spoke for a moment, the silence between them filled with thoughts.

"Have you decided what you're going to do when you get out of the hospital, Mary?" Ben asked finally. He'd been dreading that question, praying she didn't plan on going back to Derek.

"No, I'm not sure. I don't have any family nearby. I don't have a job." She shrugged and looked away, out the window. Fraser's brow furrowed deeply in concern.

"Have you told him about the child?" Another dreaded question. Mary gave him a weak smile.

"He can't know I'm pregnant." Her voice begged him not to say anything. Ben's eyes met her's sadness creeping in. "I know, I have to get away, Fraser, I won't let him hurt my baby." Mary choked up with emotion.

"If there's anything I can do to help, Mary, let me know," he offered.

For a moment she wondered if the offer was sincere. Then she remembered him saying he'd been injured in the line of duty and knew he was genuinely concerned for her.

"Thank you, Constable Fraser." Mary smiled as she opened the to-go box. Biscuit, gravy, scrambled eggs and bacon greeted her. With a nod the Mountie left her hospital room.

**********

***Author's Note:**  I've committed Fan Fiction sin and written myself into the story. LOL =)

* Also known as Shit on a Shingle.


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

 

_**Force is all-conquering, but its victories are short-lived.**_  L

incoln

Derek's boss bailed him out of jail on his lunch break. He knew the former inmate had a bad temper but he was the best frame man he had on the crew. Derek threw his stuff into the Chevy Silverado and slammed the door after getting inside. He turned to his boss,

"Thanks for bailing me out, Josh." His eyes narrowed to slits and he began talking about the fight he and Mary had had the night before and how roughly the police treated him. Josh let him ramble. He didn't care about Derek's home life. Josh put the blue truck in gear and headed through the gates to the main highway. He knew Derek was spoiling for a fight and he was sober, a bad combination.

**Scene Break**

Ben dialed the therapist, Casey Anderson's number. The clinic receptionist transferred him to Miss Anderson's office. It took Casey a minute to answer.

"Hello, Constable Fraser, I've been expecting your call." She sounded mildly surprised to hear from him.

"Good morning, Miss Anderson. I spoke with Mary Thompson this morning, it seems she's leaning toward reconciliation with her husband."

"Ah, the slime bag that drilled her head into the kitchen wall?" Casey's sarcasm wasn't lost on the Mountie.

"Yes, the very same." He watched out his office door in case Turnbull or Inspector Thatcher were to need him.

"Are you free for lunch, I can go to the hospital then." Casey asked, feeling the inevitable happening as she spoke.

"Yes, I am." They set a time and bid each other good-bye. Fraser hung up feeling a little better but still worried that the next time Derek got a hold of Mary might be the last.

**Scene Break**

Ben stood in the waiting room looking out the window. Casey could see his reflection in the window pane as she approached.

"Constable Fraser, hello." Casey greeted him with a smile. The tall woman wore a flattering pair of jeans and a blouse and embroidered vest. With her dark, naturally curly locks it suited her perfectly.

"Ah, Miss Anderson. I have yet to inform Mary Thompson you're here." The Mountie looked a bit bashful as he met Casey's eye. She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips in mild annoyance.

"You were afraid she wouldn't see me." It was difficult to tell if it was a statement or a question. Ben nodded anyway. Casey sighed. "Let's go see her." Together Casey and Fraser walked into Mary Thompson's room, Ben first. He ran his hands around the brim of his hat.

"Mary, I would like to introduce Casey Anderson, she works with Windy City Women's Clinic." Ben stepped aside for Casey to come forward.

"Constable Fraser, what is this?" Mary looked to the Canadian for an answer.

"The good constable has asked me here to speak to you about what happened a few days ago between you and your husband." Casey began. She didn't want Fraser to be the bad guy so she took the lead.

"You told this woman about me, without telling me first?" Mary raised the bed behind her back. She was incredulous, outraged about it.

"My apologies, Mary, but Miss Anderson is ..." Mary waved his response away. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she held up one, long, slim hand.

"My life has been a roller coaster for the last few months. Now you want me to tell it to a perfect stranger? No. I know what I have to do. I won't stay with Derek, but I have no where else to go right now. I won't let him hurt my baby." Mary's voice broke, a sob erupting from her chest.

"I'm here." Casey offered. "Constable Fraser is here." She smiled encouragingly. "There are places to go and people that will help if you want to leave your husband, Mary. You aren't alone." Casey moved closer to the end of the bed.

"I'm more alone than ever." Mary shook her head, which hurt horribly from crying. Casey took her free hand. Ben began to feel the urge to run from the room. Instead he determined to nail his boots to the floor and see this through.

"Mary, we want to help in any way." Ben offered, secretly feeling very much out of his depth.

"I want you to leave." Her voice barely registered as a sound. Mary pointed toward the door. Ben nodded. He'd done everything he could. Casey looked from Mary to Fraser. She saw the pained expression the Mountie was trying to hide.

"If you need anything, call me, don't hesitate." Casey fished out a business card from her purse and laid it on the night stand. She laid one hand on Fraser's arm to pull him away from the scene. Mary lay back and stared out the window, sobs shaking her frame.

"Come on, buy me some coffee in the cafeteria." Casey motioned toward the hallway. A few floors below, down very clean, yet somehow smelly, halls the pair walked in silence. The hospital eatery resembled a high school cafeteria. There were ready made sandwiches and salads as well as a hot bar between eleven and one. Casey poured herself a large cup of coffee, as did Fraser. After paying for them, pulling out money from the inside of his hatband, the Mountie and Casey took a seat in the back of the busy cafeteria. Rays of afternoon sun filled the glass enclosed area, warming the tables and seats.

"Well, that went as I expected it to." Casey began with a wry smile. Ben's eyes snapped up to hers.

"You knew that would happen."

Casey nodded at the Canadian.

"Think about it, Constable Fraser, you just ambushed that poor woman." She laid it out on the table for him. Ben looked down at his coffee for a moment. He hadn't thought about it that way.

"I did, yes." Ben learned his lesson.

"Ultimately, Constable Fraser, it is Mary's choice. You and I have extended a hand to her, she has to choose to take it." Casey laid a reassuring hand on his arm for a split second.

"I see." The reticent Mountie sipped his coffee, hiding most of his expression.

"Well, I have to go back to work, I have a fully loaded schedule this afternoon." Casey sighed. She had a dozen women just like Mary to see before she went home.

"Allow me to walk you out, Miss Anderson." Ben stood up like someone had pinched him.

"Thank you, Constable, that'd be nice." Casey gave him her most flirtatious smile but it didn't penetrate that she could tell.

Fraser walked the eight blocks to the twenty-seventh precinct where Ray Vecchio spent most of his time at work. He picked up Diefenbaker from the consulate and as the wolf explored the world through his olfactory senses, Ben had time to think.

Walking into the precinct the first person Ben saw was Francesca Vecchio. The spirited, Italian descendant smiled sweetly at him. He rather felt like a mouse just spotted by a hungry cat.

"Good afternoon, Fraser, what can I help you with today?" She leaned forward, her chin propped on one hand her other smoothing her freshly coiffed, brown hair, fishing for a compliment.

"Good day, Francesca. Nothing, thank you." He spun his hat between his hands as he walked deeper into the bull pen. A light bulb came on in the Mountie's head. Fraser spun on his boot heel and made a b-line for Frannie's desk.

"May I speak to you privately, Francesca?" Waves of excitement flowed off the young woman like static on polyester. Ben led her to the first empty interrogation room they came to and opened the door for her.

"What is it, Benton?" Frannie cooed, barely quelling an excited giggle.

"Ray told me that right after high school you were married for a brief time." He watched as Frannie's excitement turned to anger. He'd opened the topic of conversation badly and it was too late.

"That was a long time ago. It's none of anyone's business. I can't believe he would tell something so personal." Frannie crossed her arms over her chest and began pacing the room. She couldn't believe her brother had told Fraser, the one person she especially didn't want told.

"Ray didn't intend to betray your trust, Francesca. He was simply telling me to help me with someone else." Fraser had to tell Mary's story to Frannie. She was still pissed at Ray but hearing the young woman's story pulled at her heart strings.

"How can I help, Fraser? If she won't listen to you she won't want to hear from me." Frannie shrugged.

"I'm not entirely certain, Francesca. I do know that if Mary doesn't leave her husband he will kill her next time." Benton sighed, tired of the uncertainty.

"I don't mind talking to her, if you think it will do any good. I know how scared she must be right now." Frannie shuddered at the bad memory.

"Thank you kindly, Francesca." Benton gave her a hopeful smile.

****

Mary signed herself out of the hospital. The doctor had given her a prescription for a pain killer and an antibiotic as well as a list of recommendations, one of them being a follow-up appointment with a family doctor. She had no money and no what to get any, without sacrificing her honor and self-respect anyway. She set out walking back to her apartment. Mary's face throbbed as did her arm. By the time she had walked back to the apartment she was exhausted from the pain and the after effects of the medicine the doctors had given her. She opened the door and found Derek sitting on the sofa, waiting for her. His dark eyes had the glint to them that Mary had come to dread. His fists went from relaxed to square bricks as he rose from his chair. The battle was on.

"What do you think you're doing, running your mouth to the cops. I spent a night in jail thanks to your big mouth. You and that stupid Mountie have been at it, ain't you?" Derek's voice rose with every word as he dragged Mary in by her good arm.

"I didn't say anything, I swear. Derek, baby, I love you, you know that. I stuck by you all that time you were in prison. I came and saw you every visiting day." Mary's heart beat fast as she stumbled into the living room. She didn't see Constable Fraser coming to her rescue this time. The anger in Derek's voice scared her almost as much as the thought of dying.

"You ain't nothin but a little floozie. You been screwin' that prissy Mountie and no tellin' who else. No woman of mine is gonna cheat on me and live to tell about it." The rugged construction worker slammed his wife down on the floor by her throat. He wrapped both powerful hands around her throat and began tightening. His face contorted into a feral snarl, his skin red and his teeth bared as he pressed down against Mary's windpipe. She tried to push him away but he was too strong. As he choked her Derek began to pound her head against the floor. Mary's last conscious thought was, "Someone's knocking at the door." It was the sound of her skull thumping against the floor. Darkness took her vision and her hearing as she lost consciousness. Mary didn't feel Derek's work boots kick her or his fists on her face again.

Eventually, Derek's anger abated when Mary went limp. He thought for a moment he'd killed her. She didn't make a sound as he shouted her name. Leaning down, he saw her chest rising and falling. Still scared, he left the apartment, the door slamming shut as he hurried out onto the street. Mary lay on the living room floor bleeding from various wounds.

 *****


	7. Chapter 7

Frannie clocked out at five o'clock like her schedule said. Part of her dreaded talking to this woman and part of her was excited to be helping Benton. It brought up a lot of bad memories of those short months she'd been married to Scott. He'd been charming and fun at first. Frannie had hated hiding things from her mother but she was afraid her brother, Ray, would shoot the guy if she didn't. The detective and their brother-in-law had scared him away. Sometimes Frannie still had flashbacks, especially when other people were arguing or when someone screamed. It was a mild case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Frannie had spent a lot of time dealing with the remnants of those short months.

"I'm ready when you are, Fraser." Frannie jangled her car keys as she met the Mountie at her brother's desk.

"What are the two of you up to?" Ray asked, seeing Frannie's excitement.

"Francesca has agreed to meet with Mary Thompson with me." Fraser answered.

"Good luck, Benny." Ray leaned back in his office chair as he watched the pair leave the bull pen. He sincerely hoped that Fraser made a difference in the young woman's life. The detective had seen him make a difference in so many people's life in the short time he'd known him.

"Thank you kindly, Ray."

"Keep your hands to yourself, Frannie," Ray hollered across the bull pen. His little sister turned and stuck her tongue out at him.

*********

Mary felt very light, lighter than she'd ever been before. She knew what it felt like to be a helium balloon, floating on the breeze. Looking down, the young woman saw that her feet were bare and her jeans were now a white, asymmetrical dress. The cast on her arm was gone. She timidly touched her face. The bandage on her face had disappeared and there weren't any bruises or pain. Stretching, Mary didn't feel any pain. Whirling around like a little girl, she saw the Atlantic blue surface surrounding her. There was no horizon, no floor or ceiling. She simply existed in a space somewhere.

"Mary, hello," a familiar, male voice spoke her name. No one was with her in the limitless space. Mary began walking, searching for the source.

"I'm here, who's there?" she called out, her voice sounding very far away to her ears. Turning, Mary walked back in the direction she had come. "What do you want?" Her anxiety began to well up from her stomach as she looked for the source of the voice.

"Everything is going to be alright, Mary," the voice told her. He sounded so certain that things were going to be fine. Mary felt fine in that nameless space, every direction painted a deep, soothing blue.

"I'm here to help you, Mary." She felt the timbre of his voice but still couldn't place where she knew it from.

"I don't need help, nothing's wrong." A rough laugh erupted from her throat. The fear rose, threatening to invade the beautiful, blue space Mary saw around her.

"Fight, Mary, fight. Stay with me." The voice sounded angry but Mary couldn't figure out why. Her space was fine, she felt fine. Taking hold of her dress skirt, Mary felt something hot and wet on her hand. Her palm was wet with blood. She looked down at herself. There were splotches of blood all over her. It frightened her, there was so much blood. Suddenly pain erupted through her and the deep, Atlantic blue space began to fade. Instead Mary saw her living room lamp overhead. Fraser's face eclipsed the lamp glow as he leaned over her. The Mountie's face was a mix of concentration, concern and anger.

"That's good, Mary, fight. Stay with us." He leaned down again, breathing in her mouth then pulling back to perform CPR. All the pain and the fear overwhelmed the young woman. She struggled to pull away but couldn't.

"She's coming around, Fraser. I've got an ambulance on the way." A woman's voice broke through Mary's fog. The young woman struggled to concentrate on Fraser's face. Her brain hadn't yet processed that he was trying to save her life or why there would be any need to do so. She didn't remember walking in to the apartment and seeing Derek sitting in the chair or the beating he'd given her.

Frannie took the young woman's hand and held it, the cast cracked. Tears filled her big, brown eyes as she looked down at her. They weren't that different in age. It wasn't lost on Frannie that if she'd stayed with Scott it could have been her lying on the floor, hovering near death. Her lips moved in a desperate prayer that this woman lived to see the morning. Frannie's eyes met Fraser's as he worked to keep her from going under for the last time. She saw the same desperation in his eyes. She couldn't have been more proud of him than at that moment. Two EMT's burst into the living room, one carrying a bag of tools, the other dragging a backboard. Both men assessed the situation with a single glance. Frannie stood up to make way for the first EMT, a man in his late thirties with a serious face but smiling eyes.

"What's her name?" the lead EMT asked as he pulled out a stethoscope and hooked it in his ears.

"Mary Thompson. We found her unconscious approximately five minutes ago. She was barely breathing." Fraser filled him in as the second EMT moved in. He took over CPR. Fraser was glad to let him, he'd worked up a sweat. The younger EMT worked with a fervor as his partner grabbed the backboard. It didn't take them long to slide the backboard under Mary's limp frame and strap her down. Frannie clung to Fraser, tears streaming down her face as she watched the two men lift Mary easily and walk toward the door.

"That could have been me, Fraser," Frannie sobbed softly. Fraser pulled her to him for a moment.

"But it wasn't, Francesca. You had your family to help you out of that situation."

She looked up at him, her eyes brimming.

"I feel guilty that I feel so lucky it wasn't me." Fraser pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her to dry her eyes. She saw his guilt written on Benton's face. He felt bad that he hadn't saved her from the beating in the first place.

"Let's go to the hospital, Fraser," Frannie suggested to change the subject. She needed to know if Mary would pull through as much as he did and she wanted to be there for him. Ben grabbed his Stetson from the arm chair and pulled it snugly down over his brow. With a nod he took Francesca's arm and led her out the door. Every resident on the floor peeked out as they passed. Some of them stopped Fraser and asked about Mary. They'd heard the fight, one of them had even called the cops. When no one answered the door they'd left the apartment. A few minutes later and the EMT's would have been calling her time of death instead of carrying her out on a backboard.

"You saved her life, you know that, right, Fraser?" Frannie said as he opened her car door. The Mountie only nodded. He'd barely saved her life. "She'll be alright." The optimistic Vecchio laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder before turning to get in the passenger seat.

********

Ray hurried through the emergency room hallway past glaring nurses and surprised aides. He flashed his badge and pushed on through, his jacket tails flapping as he jogged beneath the fluorescent lights.

"Benny, I heard the call over the scanner in the car. What's going on?" He stopped at Ben's feet, a little out of breath.

"We found Mary Thompson on the living room floor of her apartment. That scum bucket husband of her had used her face for a punching bag," Frannie answered.

"Derek Thompson intended to kill her this time, Ray." The detective noted the razor sharp edge to his best friend's voice. It had only been there once before, when he'd faced Gerard, his father's killer.

"I'll put out an All Points Bulletin for him. Any idea where he is?"

Ray hoped he found the guy before Fraser did, he didn't have the moral compunction as the Mountie did to bring him in all in one piece.

"I believe he works for a construction company, Chicago Builders. His boss may have some idea." Fraser tried to recollect the details he'd seen on the Chevy pickup that dropped Derek Thompson off in front of the apartment building late in the evening.

"I'll get right on it. You two staying or are you coming with me, Fraser?" The detective didn't want his sister anywhere near this slime bag.

"I'm going, Ray." The doctors wouldn't tell Fraser anything anyway, he wasn't next of kin.

"What can I do to help, Ray?" Frannie's voice was uncharacteristically soft with concern. She wanted to nail Derek Thompson as much as they did. It would be like nailing Scott for what he'd done to her years earlier.

"I need you on the computer at the precinct. Think you can handle it, Frannie?" He saw the same haunted look in her eyes that had been there after the annulment.

"Yeah, I'm okay, Ray. We just need to get this guy and put him where he belongs." She took a deep breath and gave him her best smile. Frannie really was fine, but seeing this guy behind bars would make her feel even finer.

**Author's Note:**

"Never Again" Nickelback  _Silver Side Up_  album. Kinda helped me write these last two chapters.


	8. Chapter 8

Josh sat on his couch in a suburb of Chicago watching the news, a beer in one hand and the remote in the other. He'd put in a twelve hour day framing houses that he could never dream of buying for himself. He built half million dollar homes lining cul de sacs that all looked alike and had two car garages fifteen feet from the front door. Every day he and his crew leveled more farmland for the cookie cutter boxes. Where there had once been pasture land for horses, cattle, and family owned farms he laid out square streets and septic systems. Still, it was honest work and kept the bills paid through the winter, the two most important things to Josh Whitehead.

BANG! BANG! BANG! "Police, open up." An angry voice at the door made Josh spill beer all down his t-shirt. Cursing, he answered the door in his bare feet and jogging pants.

"What is it? I ain't done nothin'" Josh stared face to face with a slight built detective with a gun and a badge to support his pissed off expression.

"We are looking for Derek Thompson. We know he works for your construction company, Mr. Whitehead." a tall, oddly uniformed man answered.

"I'm Detective Vecchio, this is Constable Fraser. Now tell us where he is," the balding detective ordered.

"I don't know where Derek is, probably at home, drunk." Josh stood his ground.

"Nah, we know he ain't there. See, we know you bailed him out of jail this afternoon. Tell us where he is or I start calling the IRS, Immigration, the whole alphabet soup on you, pal." Ray stood with his hands on his hips, his badge hanging from his belt.

"I don't know where Derek is, dude, I dropped him off at his apartment building and went back to work. I got two dozen guys that can back me up on this." Josh threw his hands up.

"Does Derek Thompson have any friends he may be staying with, any place he frequents?" Ben asked, fishing for information while Ray intimidated the guy.

"Yeah, he likes a bar over on the rough side of town, the Silver Spike. If he's not at home he's usually there, drinking." Josh crossed his arms over his chest. His skin was the color of a brown paper grocery bag from years of being out in the sun all day.

"Come on, Ray." Fraser saw the truth in the man's face. "Thank you kindly, Sir." The Mountie pulled on Ray's arm to get him to leave the apartment.

"You may want to put on your bullet proof vest, Detective, Derek Thompson ain't going back to prison alive." Josh warned him.

*********

The Silver Spike was a run down bar on the edge of the city. There were women in their forties hanging unsuccessfully onto their twenties. Harley-Davidson motorcycles were parked out front of the small dive. It wasn't a place for Lexus sedans or BMW's. If someone with that kind of money showed up it was usually because they were looking for a night out on the wild side. Ray pulled his Buick Riviera into a convenience store a block a way.

"What's this guy look like again?" Ray asked as he checked his weapon.

"I'll know him when I see him, Ray, don't worry." Ben's jaw clenched as he thought of putting Derek Thompson in prison.

"You ready for this, cowboy?" The detective stopped beneath the neon lights advertising several kinds of beer.

"As ready as I will ever be." Ben took a deep breath before Ray opened the door. Walking into a bar, kinda like a bad joke, the odd pair looked around the smoky space for Derek Thompson. They spotted him at the end of the bar, a mug and several shot glasses on the bar before him.

"Derek Thompson, you're under arrest." Ray's voice cut through the recorded music and hum of voices. The construction worker panicked. He slid down off the bar stool and took off behind the bar toward the fire exit. To look at the dump one wouldn't have thought it but when he hit the door the fire alarm blared. It was so loud it was like sitting inside a police siren while it was on.

"Stop! Police!" Ray took out after the man. "Follow me, Benny." Ben split out the front door and went around the building. He was standing in the alley behind the bar, waiting. A single flood light illuminated the narrow alley. Derek turned when he saw the Mountie. Ray skidded to a stop. Derek Thompson was trapped between a Chicago detective and a Canadian Mountie. He saw no hope of escape. Derek reached behind him as he faced Ray.

"Ray, he has a weapon!" Ben shouted. The detective pulled his service revolver.

"I ain't going back to prison." His voice came out gruffly. Ray held his handgun at the ready as Derek brandished his.

"Put down the weapon and let's talk about it, Derek." Ben began. Ray wondered why the Mountie bothered. It would be doing the world and Mary a favor if he committed suicide-by-cop.

"Like I said, I ain't going to prison again." His eyes spoke of the fear that his voice wouldn't.

"I can't promise that you won't, Derek, but this doesn't have to end with you dead." Ben stepped a bit closer. Derek pointed the gun at him. If he pulled the trigger there was no way that he could miss the Mountie.

"You aren't taking me anywhere, neither of you." Derek stepped to the side of the alley.

"How will your child grow up without a father, Derek?" Ben changed the subject.

"I don't have any kids. What are you talking about?" He stared at the Mountie like he'd grown a third head.

"Mary won't tell you, but she's in her first trimester. She's expecting your child." Ben saw the indecision pass over the man's face. Then he saw his face harden.

"The dam thing ain't mine. She's been screwing around. There ain't no telling whose it is." Derek charged, his handgun pointed toward Benton.

"One more step and I put a bullet in you," Ray warned. The beefy construction worker turned the gun on the detective. Ray saw the muzzle staring back at him. He felt his finger itching to pull the trigger of his service revolver.

"If Mary were cheating on you, would she have signed in to visit you every visitor's day for the last ten years? Would she have worked so hard trying to make your apartment a home?" Ben stepped closer, drawing Derek's attention away from Ray.

"What in the hell would you know?" Derek shook the gun in the Mountie's face. With a snarl, the beefy construction worker lunged at Ben. One shot rang out. At over seven hundred feet per second, the bullet from Ray's gun hit Derek faster than the human eye could detect. Derek crumpled at Ben's feet. He lay screaming, clutching his right arm. Ray and Ben looked at each other.

"I'll call dispatch." Ben volunteered. Seeing Derek rolling on the pavement was just a little too satisfying for the Mountie's tastes.

*********

Frannie met Benton outside the hospital. She'd kept a tab on Mary's condition through a friend of a friend working at the hospital. The damage done was extensive but the doctors expected her to pull through.

"They told her that her jaw would be wired shut for six weeks. Ah, can you imagine, nothing but liquids for that long. I'd go on a diet like that but it would definitely require having my jaw wired shut. I'd finally get down to a size four again. I wonder if Ma would put her lasagna in a blender." Frannie talked faster than the Mountie could process it all. The Mountie held a single, yellow rose.

"She's been waiting for you, Constable Fraser." A kind face nurse beckoned him into Mary's, her room.

Mary's face brightened when she saw Fraser. She wiggled her fingers at him to come in. Frannie followed him in, a big smile on her face. It was a very quiet conversation. Mary, between hand gestures and writing on a note pad, told Fraser how much she appreciated him for saving her--again. Her eyes danced when he handed her the yellow rose. It was a long conversation. Mary was definitely in favor of dumping Derek and pressing charges. She had a long to-do list: press attempted murder charges, get divorced, see a prenatal doctor, find a job, get an apartment. All of them were life changing steps.

"I will help you with anything you need, Mary," Ben offered as her sapphire eyes began drooping after a two hour visit.

"We should go." Frannie took Ben's arm and let him escort her out of the room.

"You made a big difference in Mary's life, Fraser. She's going to be alright because of you." Frannie laid her head on his shoulder for a moment, looking up into his eyes.

"It's the least I could do." He studied the horizon out ahead of him like he hadn't seen it in a while.

"You really put your neck out for her, Fraser. It wasn't the  _'least'_  you could do," the optimistic Vecchio sister explained. He gave her a conciliatory smile and a nod.

"You are such a softie, Benton Fraser." Frannie wagged a well manicured finger at him. They both smiled.

"Mary will be fine. She's outside Derek's power now and under her own." The Mountie adjusted his Stetson and walked Frannie out into the afternoon.

_**The End** _

**Author's Note:**  Lyrics from a href=" .net" /a

video link

 


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